💔 He Was Never Mine, and Yet I Was Hurt

 

A Rainy Afternoon, a Cup of Puer

It’s a rainy afternoon. I sit by the window with a warm cup of Puer tea, watching the leaves dance with the wind and rain. My thoughts drift back to a trip to Bali a few years ago—one filled with laughter, adventures, and what I believed was love.

Back then, I thought I had not only rediscovered my childlike joy but also found the one.

Love Bombing & Disappearing

We first met at an event. He was charming, magnetic. He quickly added me on social media and started messaging me all day, every day. With little experience in relationships, I was easily swept in.

Then suddenly, just as things seemed to be growing, he told me he would soon return to his country. A relationship was "unrealistic," he said. I respected that and suggested we remain friends. And then—he vanished. No messages. No explanation. For two whole months.

Out of the blue, he reappeared, saying he’d changed his mind and wanted to "see where things go." I said yes.

Our connection resumed. Sweet messages, shared moments—but only ever at my place. He said he lived with colleagues and his place wasn’t “convenient.” He also mentioned a nine-year long-distance relationship from his past and claimed he didn’t want to repeat the same mistake. He came across as vulnerable and sincere. But something inside me felt
 off.

 

The Years Apart

After a year, he left the country. We kept in touch—sporadically—every couple of months. With each exchange, my trust deepened. He became the person I confided in, the one I shared my personal struggles and career updates with. However, sometimes, when I share about about self-growth, I got some negative feedbacks from him, at the moment, I didn't even doubt it, just give up on my own idea and chose his suggestions. I even doubted myself, although I was doing great. 

The Rebound Trip to Bali

One cold December, I received a message from him: “Join me in Bali for Christmas?”

At that time, I was still single. Even though my tea business was in peak season, I said yes. Before we met in Bali, his messages became warm and caring again. It felt like something had shifted.

When we met, there was no distance between us—everything felt natural. But on the second day, he sat me down and said: “After this trip, nothing will change. I still don’t want a long-distance relationship. If you want to leave, you can.”

I was too naive to recognize the manipulation. I didn’t know what narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) was, or how emotional baiting worked. I chose to stay, but lowered my expectations.

We had a beautiful trip: diving, snorkeling, wandering markets—but there were red flags. He flirted with a much older woman in front of me. My gut screamed at me when an old man asked to take a photo of us and he quickly put on his sunglasses before asking, “Will this go on social media?” I sensed then: he’s hiding something.

I didn’t confront him.

Migration in the Name of “Love”

After Bali, we drifted apart again. He messaged me occasionally, always every few months. I told him I was planning to move to a new city—he told me he might be moving to another country too and suggested I consider moving there as well.

I did move—but I never told him. Two months after I arrived, he messaged again. I casually mentioned I was already there. He replied, “Oh, I won’t be moving after all. I have a big family back home.” That was the end of it.

Alone in a foreign country, I felt lost. I started doing tea meditations every afternoon at 3 pm. No matter how messy my heart felt, I’d sit quietly, brew a pot of white tea, and breathe deeply as I watched the leaves slowly unfurl. That simple ritual helped me return to myself—and brought me a sense of calm.

The Endless Push and Pull

Every time I tried to move on, he would reappear.

Right before I was about to leave the city, he reached out again—suggesting he might move there “soon.” I postponed my departure, waited three more months
 nothing happened. I finally left.

The Truth Revealed

A week ago, out of nowhere, I had an instinct to check his social media. I clicked on a profile that had liked his post. Something about the photos struck me—same angles, similar locations.

I kept digging.

Then I saw it: a picture of him from behind, walking with a child. Post after post confirmed it. He was married. With three kids. All this time.

It finally made sense.

The gut feelings. The sunglasses. The secrecy. The inconsistency.
He wasn’t just dishonest with me. I now suspect I was not the only one.

That story about the nine-year long-distance relationship? I think it was just a script—a convenient character setup he used to make women feel special, like maybe they were the exception. Like maybe they could save him.

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đŸ«– What I’ve Learned

  • Always trust your gut. It knows.

  • If you've never met his friends or family—red flag.

  • Beware the "hot and cold" emotional game. It’s a control tactic.

  • If someone refuses emotional depth and only shares the bare minimum—watch out.

  • Long-distance isn’t the issue. Character is.

  • Never reshape your life to orbit around someone else's instability.

Healing Through Tea

This isn’t just a breakup story—it’s a story of coming back to myself.
I’m sharing this because so many women silently endure emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and confusion—blaming themselves, doubting their instincts.

But your intuition is a compass.
Let it guide you.
And when the noise becomes too loud—
Sit down, make tea, and listen to your heart.

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